<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Let's Dance by dcisamtyler</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25029220">Let's Dance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dcisamtyler/pseuds/dcisamtyler'>dcisamtyler</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Broadchurch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Other, Reader-Insert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:07:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,678</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25029220</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dcisamtyler/pseuds/dcisamtyler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the dialogue prompts: “I’m too old to start again” &amp; "I wanna dance here right now with you.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alec Hardy/Reader, Alec Hardy/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Let's Dance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Here I am, continuing to give Alec Hardy more fluff. He deserves it. :'(</p><p>Happy Christmas in July, everybody!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You knew the answer before you had even glanced out the window.</p><p>In fact, you could <cite>hear</cite> it. </p><p>Even after quite some time, the gusts of wind and snow still howled outside. They had been rattling the loose shutters, and every so often, a particularly strong gust would slam them against your house. Every time, without fail, you’d flinch at the sound, nearly spilling your hot cocoa all over your joggers.</p><p>While you loved the cold, you despised snow. As an adult, it was nothing but inconvenient, which is why you ended up moving to Broadchurch, a little town by the water. But it seemed that every December, the area would get hit by an unusually massive snowstorm, shutting down all of the roads and leaving people stranded in their homes for a day or two.</p><p>And as luck would have it, that storm was happening right outside your window. For a moment, you watched the snow continue to pile up on your porch, as it dawned on you that the storm wasn’t going to let up any time soon.</p><p>Biting back a sigh, you returned your gaze back to your friend, DI Alec Hardy. He was slumped on the couch across from you, clothed in his usual uniform of a dress shirt and navy pants – a stark opposite to your sweatshirt and sweatpants. But that was Alec. His way of “getting comfortable” was simply loosening his tie.</p><p>You had invited him over for a cup of hot cocoa and a catch-up session before the storm rushed in, but now as the storm got stronger as time went on, it felt a bit strange to have him there.</p><p>It was your fault in the first place: you ignored the weather predictions, believing the storm would be a light dusting – quick, easy, and over within a few hours. But in all reality, you’d ignore a hurricane if it meant you could see Alec, especially since he had been busy with a case for so long.</p><p>But it had already been a few hours and you were quickly approaching the evening. Now, you weren’t sure what you were going to do about him. He had a home to go back to and a young daughter, but you really didn’t want him driving in that mess, especially since he lived across town.</p><p>A thought crossed your mind for a moment and your heart broke into flutters at it: Alec Hardy was going to have no choice but to wait out the storm <cite>at your house</cite>.</p><p>Yet, he didn’t seem to notice or care. In fact, he hadn’t even mentioned the storm at all. He was busy absent-mindedly running a thumb up and down his cup of hot cocoa, focusing his gaze on a fixed spot on your wall. His brown-eyed stare signaled his mind was very much elsewhere. Well, as it usually was, if you left him alone for more than five minutes.</p><p>You watched him for a moment, feeling content, simply listening to the playlist that had been playing for hours now on repeat – a soft mix of jazz and slow instrumentals of classic Christmas songs.</p><p>When Alec originally sat down, he joked that your house sounded like a coffee shop, but you ignored his jab. You liked it. Sure, it might have sounded like a Starbucks with your piano music, but you didn’t want to hear Mariah Carey, Slade, or the newest teeny-bopper artist singing holiday songs. Instrumentals were timeless - always relaxing and enjoyable.</p><p>Apparently, they were relaxing enough for Alec to fall so deep into thought that he didn’t notice you staring at him. Some part of you liked that, though. You could appreciate the little freckles on his nose, the stars in his eyes, the rise and falls of his chest.</p><p>Finally, you cleared your throat, picking up your cup of hot cocoa. "Penny for your thoughts, <cite>Mr. Hardy</cite>?”</p><p>Your voice rose up playfully at the end, and within seconds, he broke his gaze, his eyes shooting up to meet yours. You could see something in them – a bit of amusement, despite the look on his face. He raised an eyebrow at you, his eyes narrowing as you attempted to hide your growing smile behind your cup.</p><p>“Y/N,” he breathed. “You know I hate that—”</p><p>“And I hate when you start to brood, Alec.”</p><p>He hated being called Mr. Hardy. Something about it irked him as if it reminded him of his age. It was always Alec for you. But every now and then, you’d adopt Ellie Miller’s favorite nickname for him: “The Scottish Grump.” </p><p>Unsurprisingly, he didn’t like that one, either. </p><p>But when he would start to brood, falling to a thought so deep, you had to knock him out of it, even if he looked gorgeous while doing it.</p><p>“I was just…<cite>thinking</cite>,” he replied, with a non-committal wave, his voice becoming a bit airy.</p><p>You shook your head in mock-disbelief. “Yeah? You’re <cite>always</cite> thinking.”</p><p>He pursed his lips at you. He knew you were right. That was one of his worst habits. You were always trying to pull him out of it.</p><p>After a beat, you raised an eyebrow at him and he noticed. He leaned forward in his seat and shrugged, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. “Yeah, I guess I am.”</p><p>You met his eyes. “So what were you thinking about this time?”</p><p>There was always something he was thinking about. Usually, it had to do with work. As a DI, he was often blending the lines between work and home. When he wasn’t at the station, he would still be sitting, mulling over evidence files and previous police interviews in his head. It drove his partner, Ellie, crazy. One time, he called her at 3 A.M. because he thought he figured out a connection between a witness and the crime in a particular case. You were pretty sure that he would never know how to leave work at the station and relax once he got home.</p><p>Alec seemed to be thinking of how to say it, or if he even <cite>wanted</cite> to say it. Finally, he let out a sigh. “I’m too old to start again.”</p><p>You had been holding your cup, watching the little marshmallows bob in your cocoa when you glanced up at him, eyebrows furrowed. “In what way?”</p><p>It seemed like innocent enough of a question, but it clearly pushed a nerve with Alec. He took his glasses off and ran a hand over his face. As you looked closely at him, you could see a slight blush creeping up the side of his neck. </p><p>He met your gaze with sad eyes. “I feel like no one wants to date me now. I’m tainted.”</p><p>After it left his mouth, his whole body seemed to slump. You felt the weight of it hit your chest. He was 48 now, and as he liked to say “very divorced” but that didn’t mean nobody would date him. You were pretty sure there was a whole slew of people who would date him. At least, <cite>you</cite> seemed to think so because you were one of them.</p><p>You laughed, and he raised an eyebrow, almost opening his mouth to defend himself. But you stopped him, your hand up. “Alec, that’s not true. That’s not true at all.”</p><p>Alec let out an incredulous chuckle. “How do you know?”</p><p>You were about to reply with some kind of cop-out answer about his attractiveness – something you could play off as platonic when your favorite song from the playlist, a soft cover of ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ came on. Instead, your lips fell into a soft grin. “Let’s dance.”</p><p>He hesitated, stammering out some kind of Scottish-accent-heavy mumble about ‘two right feet or something like that’ but you ignored him, taking his hand and yanking him up off his chair, much to his chagrin. “Come on, Hardy, you’re dressed for a slow dance,” you teased, tugging at his tie.</p><p>He chuckled, shaking his head as you led him out to the living room. There was an open spot in front of your fireplace and Christmas tree, and you stopped there, keeping his hand in yours. He slipped his hand down your back, and you started to sway with him to the music, leaning your head down to rest on his chest.</p><p>After a moment of listening to his heartbeat, you looked up at him and suddenly said, “I would date you.”</p><p>At once, you stopped swaying.</p><p>He glanced down at you, his soft smile fading. Outside, the wind slammed your shutters, but this time, you didn’t flinch. You stared into his eyes, unable to say anything more as his eyes widened. “What?”</p><p>You shrugged a bit, still tangled up with him. “Actually, I’ve wanted to, for a while now.”</p><p>Alec stared down at you, his eyes clouded with something you couldn’t recognize. “Oh…Y/N…I didn’t know.”</p><p>“Yeah, I know you didn’t.”</p><p>His eyes widened as he heard the sadness coat your voice and he pulled away from you, running both of his hands over his face in embarrassment. “No, no, I meant,” he shut his eyes, shaking his head, “what I meant was, if I had known, I would have said something sooner.”</p><p>Your chest fluttered. “Like what?”</p><p>Alec’s lips fell into a faint smile and he shrugged. “I’m – I’m not good at this stuff, especially not since Tess, but I fell for you the moment I met you…I just assumed you weren’t interested.”</p><p>You had to step back for a moment. All at once, flashes of your friendship flitted through your head. Moments where you could have been something <cite>more</cite>, all those lingering glances, shoulder touches, hugs that lasted a bit too long –</p><p>He was staring at you now, biting his bottom lip, unsure of what to do next.</p><p>“That’s too bad,” you started, your hands grabbing the collar of his shirt. “Because we could have done this much earlier…”</p><p>And with that, you pressed your lips to his.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>